


among us are beasts (darling, i'm tamer than you think)

by fraisage



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, General Absurdity, M/M, Mythical Beings & Creatures
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-24
Updated: 2016-07-09
Packaged: 2018-03-08 20:23:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3222215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fraisage/pseuds/fraisage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Liam gets his weird cat, naturally Louis has to get a weird dog. </p><p>Nice as they are, the new neighbors down the street are a fair bit strange as well. And they've got these oddly-familiar friends that come around just a bit too often too. </p><p>Not that Louis has noticed or anything.</p><p>Alternatively:</p><p>In which Liam's cat is not really a cat, and Louis' dog isn't really quite a dog. But they love them anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The beginning.

Louis is just stepping out of the shower when the howling and whimpering starts. Then comes the inevitable scratching at the door, where there’s something obviously very eager to get inside.

He quickly pulls a towel around his waist before yanking the bathroom door open, “What the fuck is it _now_ , Harold?!” he grinds out between clenched teeth.

Harold, or rather _Harry_ as the woman at the shelter had called him, is now calmly sitting in front of the door, tongue lolling out of his mouth, tail furiously wagging. He’s the picture of a safe and satisfied dog, as if he hadn’t just been desperately trying to get into the bathroom for no discernible reason.

Of course, Harry then decides he wants to jump-up on Louis, causing him to lose his grip on the bloody towel.

Louis is standing in his hallway completely starkers and his fucking dog couldn’t be happier. Is jumping all over him like it’s fucking Christmas.

Honestly, when the woman at the shelter had said Harry was ‘ _A bit pervy, but otherwise lovely and very talented **,’**_ Louis had thought she was joking.

(More fool him for thinking she was joking, and perhaps a bit bonkers besides.)

There used to be days when Louis could enjoy a long, hot shower topped off with a good wank.

Those days have long since passed since Harry came into his life.

For the record, as it often is, this is all Liam’s fault.

Him and his bloody cat.

 

*

 

To be fair, Louis freaking loves Liam’s cat.

Zayn is possibly the loveliest, most handsome tuxedo cat in existence. His fur is obscenely sleek and yet fluffy at the same time, even before he allows Liam to give him his daily brushing to keep it glossy.

And Louis would mean all of that even if he wasn’t basically the cat version of Louis—in that they both like to incessantly mess with Liam.

Louis just likes Zayn even _more_ because of their mutual love of messing with Liam.

As he can’t help but feel special when Zayn chooses to only knock over _Liam’s_ mug of tea, while leaving Louis’ completely untouched. It’s like he just knows Louis loves tea.

Or when it seems like he purposefully sheds all over Liam’s favorite sweater while demanding a cuddle, but patiently waits for Louis to give him pets.

Zayn and Liam really have a kind of love-hate relationship. As in, Zayn probably loves Liam but definitely _hates_ everyone he associates with **—** except Louis, of course, whom he _loves_.

Zayn is partially (okay, _mostly_ ) the reason why Liam is single and has remained single ever since he and Sophia broke up. Or rather, ever since _Zayn_ broke them up. With his magical cat powers.

Really, Louis had liked Sophia well enough, but she’d gone too far in trying to make Liam choose between her and Zayn. Especially since _she’d_ been the one to suggest her and Liam getting a pet together, to ‘ _establish their status as a couple’_ or something equally as ridiculous as that.

In the run-up to Zayn’s imminent arrival, she’d even started going on about how the little cat was going to be ‘ _their first baby_.’ Which has honestly almost soured Louis on the entire thing, because if Liam was going to be at anyone’s beck-and-call it was going to be him— _he_ was Liam’s baby.

Of course, once Zayn arrived it became perfectly clear that he and Louis were going to get on quite well. Sure, Liam was literally at Zayn’s beck-and-call, but within a few hours of his presence in Liam’s home it became perfectly clear that Zayn wasn’t so much going to be Liam’s ‘baby’ as he was going to be his master.

Which was perfectly fine with Louis, but for Sophia not so much.

It was just her luck that the ‘ _lovely, absolutely adorable_ ’ cat they picked out at the shelter had turned into a possessive, ‘ _Get the fuck away from me girl-human!_ ’ demon once they’d brought him home.

Total menace when he wanted to be, Zayn.

And it probably hasn’t helped that Zayn had taken so well to Louis from the get-go either—Louis and Sophia’s relationship, in contrast, was tepid at best compared to how well he got on with the lovely cat.

Sure, it’d been nice to meet each other the first time (honestly, how could it have gone wrong—Sophia loved Liam, and Liam loved Louis so logically Sophia should have also loved Louis and vice-versa on the good days when Louis was willing to admit that Liam was his boy), but Sophia seemed to think Louis took up far too much of Liam’s time.

Time that could’ve, no, _should’ve_ been spent with her.

So she and Louis hadn’t really progressed beyond ‘acquaintances’ and exchanging social niceties whenever they had to be in the same room together, no matter what Liam had tried—bribery, mostly.

But Sophia and Zayn’s relationship was roughly the equivalent of a day-old party balloon.

Sure, they’d made you happy and cheery on the day-of, but the next day they’ve gone all deflated and just make you feel sad but also vaguely angry because you’re got a massive hangover and you just want them out of the house along with all the other massive amounts of garbage lying around because it’s not a real party unless everything’s wrecked and you regret everything the day after.

What Louis means to say is Sophia and Zayn had played-nice for approximately one day.

After that it’d all gone to hell, and Sophia had been out within a month after Zayn had established himself as king of the flat, with Liam as his loyal underling.

It’d been after she’d issued the classic ultimatum, ‘ _It’s me or the bloody cat, Liam!_ ’ And everything had spiraled down from there.

Obviously she hadn’t known Liam as well as she said if she thought Liam would ever shirk his responsibilities. Even if said responsibility was a cat that could mostly take care of himself.

Because Louis has seen Zayn turn on the faucet loads of times by himself if he’s wanting a drink when his bowl’s empty, and he could swear he saw the cat open the refrigerator by himself once or twice as well.

Basically, Liam is going to be responsible for Zayn even if it means he has to be alone forever and ever. Or until the cat finally approves of one of his dates.

Louis has let Liam know that this is never ever going to happen.

Liam’s probably going to die alone and Zayn, loyal companion that he is, will probably eat his face off as soon as he gets the chance.

But Liam had signed the adoption contract, and he was going to be with Zayn until death and subsequent face-eating did them part.

 

*

 

Which brings Louis to his current situation. With Harry. His dog. Harry, his pervy dog.

Which again, is all Liam’s fault. Because back when he and Sophia were together and Liam was still trying to make it work between them with Zayn ( _ever the optimist_ , Liam), he’d been the one to suggest Louis get his own pet.

He’d had a moment of weakness, okay? Zayn was just so lovable and Louis hasn’t had a steady relationship since forever, and the idea of a lifelong companion had sounded pretty great.

It’d save his family some money on funeral arrangements too, if he did die alone and get eaten all up.

Harry was really just as lovable as Zayn, but they were also completely different. And not just because they were a dog and a cat.

Zayn was basically the cat version of the coolest kid in school—and really, weren’t all cats? With the exception of the dopey sort that got famous on Instagram?

And Harry, well Harry was the dog version of the overeager kid who wanted to be everyone’s friend.

Lovable for sure. But a bit much in some respects.

Plus, ‘ _a bit pervy_ ’ was probably the understatement of the century. Louis’ caught Harry _staring_ at him more than a few times while changing. Mouth open, puddle of drool on the floor and everything.

Liam’s said he’s probably over-exaggerating, projecting human emotions on his dog and all that.

Which, Louis isn’t an idiot, okay? He knows all dogs drool, but Harry’s doggy grin when he'd been caught was positively _lecherous._

 

*

 

Over four months ago, Louis had found himself standing in front of _Spheredew Animal Shelter_. The building had looked so unassuming.

He couldn’t have known that inside lay his eventual doom.

The lady at the front desk, ‘ _Lou_ ’ she’d said her name was, had been so nice too. Asked him all sorts of questions after he’d introduced himself, like about what kind of pet he’d like, his life, his work, his history with pets, etc. In the end, she’d suggested a dog instead of the cat he’d been thinking about.

Louis hadn’t been sure about the whole dog thing at first. He’d envisioned kitty play-dates with Zayn, not watching Liam hold Zayn back from clawing an overeager dog’s face off.

That’s what dog’s did, right? Try to make friends and sniff the bum of anything that moved? Louis didn’t have much experience with animals to be quite honest, although he didn’t want Lou to know that.

Anyway, Lou had led him into the back, “Just to have a look, Louis, you don’t have to commit to anything right now, hon.” Well, before that she’d called out “We’re coming back to have a look-see, alright?” before there’d been the loud sounds of shuffling and cages rattling, and then a chorus of meows and barks and maybe even a few twitters. But then they’d been off, into the back, full of rows of surprisingly roomy cages.

She’d led him straight to the row of dogs, there’d only been a few, maybe five or six. Louis remembers they’d all acted rather nonchalant at his appearance. Not at all like they were searching for their **‘** forever home’ like those dogs in the movies or on the telly.

Well, except for one dog. Who’d been jumping all over with impatient _woofs_ the longer they stood there without coming closer to its cage.

Lou had smiled and said, “Guess he wants to say hello?” before leading him over to the gate.

There’d been a handsome, excited, and positively gigantic dog in the cage waiting for him. The information tag clipped on the gate had said ‘ _Harry- Scottish Deerhound- 3 years old_.’

“Scottish…?” Louis had asked, more curious than anything.

“Oh, it’s just the breed name. You know Australian shepherd, Siberian husky, Scottish deerhound, and the like. This big boy’s really nothing but English, English, English,” Lou had said breezily, while she opened the top half of the gate. ‘Harry’ had immediately jumped up with his paws on the bottom half, attention entirely focused on Louis.

“Here’s someone to meet you Hazza, his name’s Louis,” Lou had said, as if she’d been introducing two people instead of a guy and a humongous dog.

“A bit big, isn’t he? I was thinking of something smaller for a dog, like a terrier or summat, or maybe I should just get a cat? Something a bit easier to take care of?” Louis had said, incredulously, eyeing Harry’s paws. Which were each about as big as his face.

Harry had given him such a disgruntled look, letting out a _woof_ as if to say, “Perish the thought!”

Lou had giggled at Harry’s reaction, scratching him behind the ears as if she was trying to appease him, “I’m sure he didn’t mean any offense, Your Highness.”

She turned to face Louis, smiling while petting the comically gigantic dog, “Harry’s breed does need a bit of exercise now and then, but knowing this big lug he’ll probably spend most of his time sleeping and lazing around. I can guarantee he’ll be great company for you.”

Louis is still skeptical, but, “Well, my landlady did say she’d let me use the back garden when I mentioned that I might be getting a pet.”

Lou had gotten this gleam in her eyes and before he’d known it Louis was agreeing to a home visit, a background check, and tons of other stuff that he’d never known he’d ever need to adopt a dog. Honestly, MI-6 probably wasn’t even this thorough.

Come to think of it, if Louis ever gets recruited by MI-6 he could probably just ask Spheredew to send over his paperwork to expedite the process.

The next few weeks had been a whirlwind of home visits, with and without Harry’s presence. Although the latter had included Harry rolling himself all over Louis’ freshly-made bed, as if to say “This is my territory now!”

But before he knew it Louis had been signing the adoption contract.

Thereby making him Harry’s new owner.

His first night in the house, Louis had tried to establish that Harry would be sleeping _on his own_ , in his _own_ bed in the living room. The dog had spent the better part of the night scratching and whimpering at the door until Louis finally fell asleep.

The next morning, Louis had woken up with a crushing weight slobbering all over him and the door to his room wide open.

At least Harry had had the good grace not to completely pancake him during the night.

Louis would file this incident away as one of Harry’s many quirks (the first of many, to be sure), not to be remembered until much, much later.

 

*

 

Come to think of it, he still doesn’t know who Lou had been taking to, that first day at the shelter.

There’d been no sign of anyone but them and the animals in the back.

Louis sighs, “Alright Haz, let’s go, time for bed,” he says, walking into his bedroom, towel forgotten on the floor.

Harry, as always, is right at his heels.

Of course, clumsy, excitable dog that he is he tends to get ahead of himself.

Ultimately, Louis’ night ends with Harry accidentally head-butting his _mercifully-clothed_ bum into the bed.

Harry doesn’t even look a bit sorry for it, not when it means he can collapse his gangly form around Louis, just like he’s done since the first night he got here. Just like he’s been _allowed_ to the second night of his official instatement as ‘Louis’ dog.’

Which is to say, Louis has gotten more used to it than he’d care to admit.

 

*

 

It’s when night’s fallen and the humans have gone to bed, that all the things that go bump in the night come out to play.

Of course, they’ve gotten a lot better at hiding themselves these days.

Humans have really come a long way from going to bed once the sun goes down. It’s like everyone and their mother is a night owl these days.

Harry blames the internet.

Which is why Harry has forgone opposable thumbs to make his way into the clearing for his super **-** important meeting tonight. Anyone out at this time of night would’ve just seen a large dog making its way into the woods. Not an uncommon sight in a village like this one, where people can still let their dogs out without a leash or collar without getting fined.

It’s all very convenient and proves Harry is a genius at planning things.

Or that Zayn is. W _hichever_.

Harry sits in the clearing, panting a bit with his tongue lolling out of his mouth. He might prefer his two-legged form, but this form comes with So. Many. Smells! It takes a lot of willpower not to start running around and rolling everywhere. His instincts are telling him that anything and everything should totally be smelling like him right now.

He’s seconds away from lifting his leg when he spots a sleek black cat making its way into the clearing. Harry quickly tries to look nonchalant, like he wasn’t just about to mark his territory like an actual dog instead of a fearsome being who just happens to turn into a dog sometimes for certain reasons.

The cat rolls its eyes at him (which, _rude_ ), before it’s transforming into a young man.

Harry sits placidly, tail wagging. Because he just _knows_ that Zayn finds it utterly _irritating_.

“ _Come on_ Haz, I haven’t got all night,” Zayn says, clearly exasperated by his antics. Harry’s always got jokes. Especially in the dead of night when it’s not at all suspicious for a ridiculously-handsome man to be talking to a giant dog.

Par for the course, really.

Harry gives him one more doggy grin before he transforms as well.

“Nice night eh, Zayn?”

Zayn rolls his eyes at him again, although it’s marginally less effective than when he’s a cat. “Come on Haz, you gave me the signal the other night during our ‘play date’,” he says with a grimace. “It means you’re ready, innit? For the next phase?”

Harry grins, remembering when he’d given Zayn the ‘signal,’ as in, he’d bitten Zayn (gently, of course **—** his claws _are_ awful sharp) on the arse, it’s remarkably similar to when he’s a dog—minus the tongue-lolling and buckets of drool, “Yeah, I think Louis is definitely ready.”

Zayn gives him a grin, “Finally! Mate, I’ve been ready for _ages_. I’ve been ready to have Liam since I got Sophia out of my house, y’know.”

 **“** ’s easy for you to say, Zayn. You had Liam eating out of your hand from day one. Louis still won’t let me into the bathroom when he’s showering,” Harry groans, “It’s like he doesn’t trust me or something!”

“Yeah? Liam doesn’t even close the door anymore,” and now, Zayn is just rubbing it in.

Just because Zayn decided to go with a ‘cat’ form and had done his research and paid attention in lessons and all that shit.

How was Harry supposed to remember that the humans treated cats like royalty and dogs like lovable idiots? Besides, being a cat didn’t suit him at all.

Zayn was a pretty good looking cat, all soft and silky. When Harry tried being a cat he looked like the biggest puffball ever, like he’d just stuck a paw in an electrical socket. It was _not_ a good look for him, and wouldn’t have been conducive at all to getting Louis to take him home.

Trust Zayn to rub it in, as if he hasn’t had his fair share of mishaps.

He still can’t mention Dartmoor around Zayn without him going into a snit.

And it’s not like Zayn has any right to be so snippy about it, not when it really was his fault that their long-awaited school trip got cut short. Couldn’t very well have a bunch of out-of-place animals—and really, teenagers _always_ went for the exotics, running around when there were television crews and crypto-nutjobs traipsing about looking for the ‘Beast of Dartmoor.’

“Come on, Haz, I’ve still got to make it back in time to fall asleep on Liam’s face,” Zayn says, breaking him out of his reverie.

Harry’s grin comes back in full-force, “In this form or…?”

The look on Zayn’s face is a mix of Liam-wistfulness (it’s even more heart-wrenching than when he’s a cat, if possible) with a dash of completely-fed-up-with-your-antics- _Styles_ , “Dunno when you got to be such a cheeky bastard.”

“Maybe I was born with it.” Why yes, Harry does spend most of his mornings and afternoons watching daytime telly, waiting for Louis to come home.

The adverts alone must constitute some form of torture, and don’t even get him _started_ on Jeremy Kyle.

Another eye-roll, “So we’ll start Phase Two this week?” He says it like they’ve got some big plan going on, like they haven’t just been flying by the seats of their pants.

Harry grins, “Yeah, _Phase Two_. Give Lou a call tomorrow when Liam’s at work, yeah? She’ll set it all up for us.”

Zayn nods, “Yeah, see you on the other side then, Your Highness.”

The next second he’s a cat again, scampering off into the night and blending into the shadows.

Harry looks up at the night sky, dotted with stars all over.

Everything's coming together perfectly.

He’s one step closer to being together with Louis forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I spent more time than I'd like to admit trying to decide what type of dog Harry would be, still don't know if I got it right. I just wanted it to be a giant one.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Zayn go on a trip of sorts. Liam and Louis are more than a bit sad.
> 
> But it's okay, because here comes someone to save the day!

It’s a curious piece of mail.

Louis doesn’t often get mail, not _real_ mail anyway. Mail that’s addressed to _him_ rather than ‘occupant,’ or various catalogues advertising things that he couldn’t possibly ever want or need.

Well, while he might _want_ a life-sized Spiderman replica, he doesn’t necessarily _need_ one.

The point is, this particular piece of mail is very much meant to be for Louis, and it is rather curious.

Cream cardstock, embossed in oddly-hypnotizing metallic ink that shifts like a rainbow in the sunlight. It’s entirely too shiny and Louis is hopelessly entranced.

He has a bit of a fascination with shiny things, as a matter of fact. Gold and silver, platinum and rose gold, everything that Louis couldn’t possibly afford but could spend hours gazing at.

Which brings him, again, to this curious piece of mail.

There’s his name, _Louis William Tomlinson_ , and his address, flashing rainbow. And a vaguely familiar symbol that Louis should probably remember from somewhere or another.

It all becomes clear when he turns it over, as the postcard simply says, ‘ _The presence of Harry [Scottish Deerhound, 3 years old] is requested at Spheredew Estate for a period of (1 month). Transportation has been arranged for the 1st of June.’_

The funny thing about adopting a rather odd dog like Harry is the odd rules for adopting him.

Louis had signed an adoption contract stating all the usual—that he would be providing a loving forever home for Harry, and so on and so forth,—as well as stipulations for visits with the kindly old benefactor of _Spheredew Home for Animals_ with too much heart and undoubtedly far too much money.

Of course, said kindly old benefactor also made sure that Spheredew would in general provide for anything that Harry would ever need. Materially.

Louis, would, contractually, be providing love.

Louis reckons he might’ve been having some sort of episode when he signed that contract.

 

*

 

Harry is the biggest, dumbest lug of a dog in the whole wide world, and Louis wasn’t sad at all when he got the postcard reminding him of his ‘contractual obligation.’

Honestly, he’d adopted a dog from a somewhat shady shelter, all-expenses paid, with gourmet pet food delivered weekly, and ridiculously expensive toys, and a pet bed that was never used (given Harry’s penchant for taking far too much space in Louis’ bed) but was far nicer than the bed for humans that Louis slept in.

And all he needed to do was let some presumably old, apparently filthy-rich, benefactor-person see Harry whenever they pleased.

Maybe getting a pet from the RSPCA would’ve been easier, and _really_ , what shelter wasn’t RSPCA-affiliated these days but for the one Liam just _happened_ to adopt his own new pet from.

But Spheredew was just so much easier on his not-unburdened wallet. More than a bit fishy, but all-expenses-paid.

For that, he’d eat the fish and still have enough money to go to A&E for food poisoning.

Ms. Teasdale, _‘call me Lou’_ , had called him on Monday to arrange a pick-up time for Harry on Friday, and it was already Friday now.

So here they all were, Zayn and Liam too, watching as a ridiculous-looking car (for an animal shelter anyway)—all blacked-out windows and far larger than necessary even for as ridiculously large a dog as Harry, pulled up to the curb.

It’s even funnier when Lou herself steps out of the car, and Harry, who’s been a bit mopey the last few days, starts wagging his tail like crazy.

He’s the happiest-saddest dog in the world, keeping on his doggy-frown even as he runs up to Lou to greet her.

For her part, Lou meets him with squealing and hugs, and Harry’s mood seems to lift even higher when a tiny blonde kitten pops its head out of Lou’s hoodie.

“Aren’t you glad to see my Lux-y, Harry!,” Harry lets out a series of joyful barks as Lou sets the kitten down beside him, wasting no time in leaning down to sniff the little thing.

Of course Harry, as always, underestimates his own strength, and noses the kitten so hard it flops over with a series of pitiful ‘mews.’

Louis can honestly relate to this kitten.

After that little mishap and a few apology licks, Harry is calm enough to sit quietly beside his little friend while the humans talk.

“Now, I’m sure you don’t need to worry about Harry being lonely Mr. Tomlinson, as Mr. Payne’s cat will be going for the month as well. And they’re quite good little friends aren’t they?”

It’s true, Harry and Zayn get along uncommonly well for a dog and a cat, if only because Zayn seems to consider Harry a method of free transportation.

They really only devolve into the usual ‘cats and dogs’ relationship whenever Harry slides Zayn off him. Or almost rolls over on him. Accidentally, of course. Giant that he is, more often than not Harry doesn’t even notice the cat on his back.

Then it’s all half-hearted hissing and apologetic _wuff_ -ing.

It’s YouTube-worthy cuteness, though Louis would never try that. He knows if Zayn ever found out, he’d never be able to leave a cup of tea unattended at Liam’s house ever again.

Speaking of Liam, the man’s acting as if he’ll never see his precious cat ever again. He’d walked up in front of Louis’ house with Zayn in his arms, sniffling, and he hasn’t let go since.

It’s kind of cute to watch a grown man saying goodbye to his cat, face buried in his fur, while the cat looks more than a bit embarrassed.

Louis is tempted to record it for blackmail material—if he can keep Zayn from finding out, but it’s all cut short by Lou, “Oh my goodness, look at the time! We’re running a bit late aren’t we! Harry, Zayn, say your goodbyes boys! Off we go, you too Lux-y!”

At that, Harry bounds up to Louis for one last lick goodbye, jumps right up on him, massive paws dwarfing Louis very-human, very-fragile shoulders. He’s running off back to the car before Louis can blink, face covered in doggy-drool.

Zayn, for his part, obliges Liam’s sad-face with one last _boff_ on the nose, before jumping out of his arms and slinking over to the car.

The gentlemanly cat makes one last stop, picking up the little blonde kitten piteously _mewl-_ ing by the car, far too small to make its own way in.

The last thing Louis and Liam see is Zayn and Lux jumping into the car, stepping on Harry’s—who’s made himself comfortable on the floor, face on the way in.

If possible, the last glimpse of their same-old antics makes Louis even sadder.

 

*

 

So the thing is, Louis had had more than enough notice that Harry was going to be away for the next month.

He could’ve gotten time-off, booked a cheap flight to Ibiza and partied from sun-up to sundown for the next two weeks.

Maybe brought Liam along, since Zayn was supposed to be going off to god-knows-where as well.

No sense leaving Liam to mope all by his lonesome with no-one to mother-hen, not when he could be keeping Louis hydrated in Ibiza.

He could’ve gone up to Doncaster for a visit. God knows his mum would’ve been well pleased, although the kiddies might’ve been less than happy that Mr. Harry hadn’t come along.

Instead, his course of action so far has been to mope at home, utterly despondent without a dog underfoot.

Liam’s much the same, he knows. He’d admitted to Louis, with no small amount of embarrassment, that he’d taken to sleeping with a throw pillow on his face.

Apparently once a cat has decided your face is a throne exclusively made for its arse there’s just no going back.

Louis can’t even make fun. He’s taken to piling pillows all over Harry’s side of the bed. Pillows however, do not wake you up in the morning with slobbery kisses.

It’s probably crazy to be this mopey over a dog whose favorite past-time is leaving puddles of drool in front of Louis’ bathroom door. Or, for a cat that likes nothing more than to nest in pristine, just-dry-cleaned white button-ups.

They can’t go on like this, it’s utter insanity.

That being said, Louis maintains that if they’re going to go about the rest of the month like this, it’s best they do it together.

So it’s a very strange lads’ night indeed, what with Liam’s constant need to wax-lyrical over Zayn’s glossy fur, and how much he misses Zayn’s _prrrp_ -s waking him up every morning.

Louis isn’t even listening to him half the time, he’s rather busy casting wistful looks at Harry’s stainless steel water bowl every five minutes. His _empty_ water bowl, because the dog is _gone_.

Only for a month, but _still_. Gone. For an entire month!

They fall asleep in Louis’ bed, not-quite pissed enough and as sad as ever. Although Louis does helpfully lend Liam a Green Lantern throw pillow, which he mournfully places over his face.

“Thanks, mate.”

Louis will have to change the sheets in the morning. Harry just hates it when the bed smells of anything besides Louis and himself.

 

*

 

Louis wakes up for two reasons.

One, Liam has decided to wrap himself around Louis in what he assumes is a terrible impersonation of a boa constrictor.

Terrible, because if he’d been any good at it Louis would’ve been asphyxiated in the night.

Instead he has to wake up to Liam drooling on his shoulder and his scratchy stubble rubbing his neck red-raw.

It’s not nearly as cute as when Harry does it, and anyway, Harry’s fur is _soft_.

And there’s the incessant knocking, besides. So loud he can hear it throughout his flat.

That’s two.

Liam’s going to be paid back for both. That’ll teach him to think he can cuddle Louis whenever he pleases.

 

*

 

When Louis had been thinking of getting a dog, his landlady honestly had offered to let him use the backyard.

Louis now knows that her seemingly-generous offer had been because her grandkids were about a hundred-times more likely to come over and visit granny if there was the promise of playing with Mr. Tomlinson’s giant dog.

That, and the fact that she can use her ‘generosity’ against him whenever she pleases.

This is exactly the reason why Louis and Liam are, right at this moment, standing on the doorstep of the previously-empty, preternaturally-for-sale house down the street. Where the houses are being bought up families that can afford entire houses instead of having to rent the top floor as a flat from crazy old ladies.

Waiting for someone to come answer the doorbell.

Oh, and they’ve got scones.

His mum always taught him never to go visiting empty-handed, but Louis doesn’t think the dozen sorry scones he’s got, rattling in their plastic packaging, are really any better.

Even now he’s missing Harry, odd as it might sound. If Harry’d been here he probably would’ve eaten at least four of these rocks.

Zayn would’ve done him better and batted _at least_ five of them under the couch before they’d left the flat.

And the rest would’ve found a nice home under one of Liam’s snapbacks.

Of course, this would be the one time Liam neglects to wear one.

And Harry’s not here. And neither is Zayn.

So all they’ve got is these crap scones.

Well that, and the most dour-faced man Louis has ever seen, standing on the other side of the now-open front door.

 

*

 

Did he mention that the man is also a giant?

And Louis knows ‘giant’, alright? ‘Giant’ is what steals all the covers every night. ‘Giant’ is what hogs the sofa begging for a cuddle when Louis is trying to watch footie.

Liam as well, is actually quite tall himself. And Louis is… working on it.

Well, regardless of his own ongoing height project (and it _is_ ongoing!), Louis feels confident in asserting that this man Is. A. Giant.

And although the man, ‘Niall’ as he introduces himself, seems genuinely sincere when he thanks them for the scones—Louis can’t help but hear ‘ _Fee-fi-fo-fum…_ ’ as he invites them into the house.

Because while Louis Tomlinson’s bones might be calcium-deficient, particularly his long bones (which aren’t nearly as long as he’d like), there isn’t a bone in his body that isn’t completely saturated with over-dramaticism.

You can be sure of that.

What he isn’t so sure of is whether or not he’s going to make it out of this visit with all his bones intact. But he really wouldn’t make much bread anyway, probably not much more than a bun’s worth.

Not like Liam, Liam would make _amazing_ flour. Probably.

He really hasn’t gotten enough sleep to be thinking about this, hasn’t really slept well since Harry’s been gone, odd as it might sound.

Although honestly, what does the blood of an Englishman smell like anyway?

 

*

 

When Mrs. Eames had pushed them out the door, scones in hand, she’d told them to go welcome the new _couple_ that had moved in down the street.

So, Louis has been expecting someone else to make an appearance since they’d stepped in the door.

What he hadn’t expected was the chirpy man who came running down the stairs, flitting around them like a little bird, after they’d made themselves comfortable in the living room.

Not that he’s really all that tiny, but anyone would look small next to Niall. He’s really about as tall as Louis, all blonde fringe and bright blue eyes.

When they’d first gotten in, Louis had been surprised looking at the inside of the house. All calm blues and off-whites, other than being neat and clean the decor just didn’t seem to really fit with Niall.

But for this man, Louis thinks the house is perfect. Exactly how this man would make his nest.

And a gregarious lad he is too, disappears in what Louis assumes is the kitchen—he can hear him bustling about, and reappears with the _frankly terrible_ , _really just awful_ scones nicely-plated with cream and jam, and soft butter. And Louis just knows there’ll be tea soon enough, once the kettle boils.

But it’s only then that he introduces himself as ‘Niall Horan’ and Louis wishes he could save himself the embarrassment but he knows his face is completely incredulous. Because the look is exactly mirrored on Liam’s face.

“Hold on a minute… you’re _both_ Niall?” Louis knows why he brought Liam along, snapback-less though he is, Louis can always count on him to ask the obvious questions.

Niall, _blonde_ -Niall that is, let’s out a guffaw—and he’s got little crumbs all over from the terrible, terrible scones and Louis thinks there might even be _currants_ in them, good God this boy is a _saint_ , an adorable little saint with crumbs all over his mouth.

“Not this again, Bressie!” And _tiny_ Niall is _boff_ -ing _giant_ Niall all over his chest and giving him little crumb-y pecks on the lips, and Louis doesn’t know whether to continue being confused or be absorbed by how cute this kid is.

Liam raises his hand, and normally Louis would make fun but he’s just awfully confused by everything right now.

Luckily, tiny Niall is nice enough to explain.

“ _I’m_ Niall _Horan_ , and _this_ is Niall Breslin, _Bressie_ to all except his mum and his nan. And the only reason _they_ call him ‘Niall’ is because they call _me_ sweetheart.”

Louis shares a look with Liam at this, the kind of look only lifelong friends can share, the look of instantaneous understanding.

It’s the same look they’d shared when Liam had brought Zayn home, and he’d immediately zipped under the couch for the better part of four hours.

It’s the same look they’d shared when Louis had brought Harry home, and he spent an entire afternoon rolling around the backyard, basking in the sun.

It’s the same look they’d shared when they’d gone to Liam’s house for family dinner, Zayn and Harry included—because family meant _everyone_ , and their naughty cat and dog had started eyeing-up the roast.

They’re going to protect this boy, just like they protected Karen Payne’s Sunday roast.

What they’re supposed to be protecting him from, they don’t know yet.

But Louis is sure they’ll find out soon enough, especially since Niall’s just invited them to stay for lunch.

Apparently they’re going to have fajitas.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To anyone who was waiting, sorry for the long wait. And I hope you find this nice. As nice as Niall's fajitas must be.


End file.
